


salva me, fons pietatis

by savi0urdr3amer



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Worship, Church Sex, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Master/Liege Dynamics, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Religious Undertones, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 13:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20292121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savi0urdr3amer/pseuds/savi0urdr3amer
Summary: “You’re only supposed to kneel when you’re praying,” Rhea says sternly, her voice like a blade of ice, but the heat in her intent gaze betrays her steely tone.Catherine grins, unsure of if she’s flustered or downright proud of herself, and presses a hint of a kiss to Rhea’s inner thigh as she hikes up her dress. She raises her eyebrows as their eyes meet.“Who said I wasn’t?”





	salva me, fons pietatis

**Author's Note:**

> the pope fucks!!!! (also i'm in three houses hell, more sin coming soon. enjoy this short disaster)
> 
> title comes from "des irae", an old latin hymn, and roughly means "save me, source of mercy".

-

“You’re only supposed to kneel when you’re praying,” Rhea says sternly, her voice like a blade of ice, but the heat in her intent gaze betrays her steely tone.

Catherine grins, unsure of if she’s flustered or downright proud of herself, and presses a hint of a kiss to Rhea’s inner thigh as she hikes up her dress. She raises her eyebrows as their eyes meet.

“Who said I wasn’t?”

Rhea’s regalia gleams gold and verdant green in the light that breaks through the stained glass in the center window of the chapel, a cascade of colors adorning her silhouette and spinning up into the ceiling, the reflections like tiny flecks of rubies and sapphires and diamonds adorning the walls. Her eyes shine brighter than any gem, her skin warm and pristine like the goddess herself, Saint Seiros in the flesh of a woman far too beautiful to be real.

Catherine shifts, the weight of her body going to her greaves, the metal resonating against the fine marble floors, and Rhea’s gaze shifts from critical to expectant. It’s close to sunset now, the chapel doused in warm light, its empty pews filled instead with incense and the faint luster from the candles speckled atop the altars. Rhea prays each night after her closing sermons, basks in the light before the statue of the goddess until the moon peeks through the windows, her dress spread out like an open flower around her, a rippling, full white rose.

Most days Rhea’s nightly prayers are devout and lengthy, and Catherine, too exhausted to keep herself from falling asleep in one of the pews, usually opts to stand guard outside the chapel, but tonight was different. Rhea didn’t give her that leisure, instead clasping her wrist tightly, _fervently_, and the desire in her eyes burned a hole through Catherine’s armor.

_Will you accompany me tonight, Catherine? _Rhea examined her, a hint of desire leaking through her composed demeanor, and then, goddess damn it all, she _smiled_ at her. Innocently, inconspicuously. _If you’d be so willing_, she added, like Catherine didn’t have the slightest idea of what she had planned.

But she did. And she wanted it.

Rhea’s arousal seeps into the air as she parts her legs and Catherine pulls white lace from her hips, trails of her dress pooling over Catherine’s shoulders. Rhea’s hand finds its way to Catherine’s face, and her thumb traces her bottom lip.

“Nice and slow, my knight,” she says softly, and Catherine’s mouth waters, a shudder rocking through her body, a shock of heat pooling in her belly. It’s been quite some time now since Rhea called her that, and Catherine finds herself more than eager to obey.

It seems there would be a different kind of prayer taking place in the chapel tonight. 

Catherine obliges, burying her head between Rhea’s legs, and she’s warm and sticky and sweet, her lips swollen and slick with arousal. Her scent is intoxicating, better than anything Catherine’s ever smelled, and Rhea’s fingers weave into her blonde hair and pull her in closer, closing what little space remained between them. Rhea’s gasp is immediate, a soft, innocuous sound that Catherine has learned to pick up on over the years, and she feels the subtle grind of Rhea’s hips into her face, urging her for more.

Catherine drags her tongue up with a slow, broad lick, briefly tracing over Rhea’s clit before diving back down to taste her, _worship_ her, exploring every inch of her, and Rhea begins to crumble, slouching in her chair, her _throne_, her eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide and bottomless. Rhea moans this time, the tension in her voice unraveling like a seam coming undone, and Catherine feels her nails grazing her scalp as her grasp tightens, becoming unrelenting. The sting is close and familiar, and Catherine welcomes it with another swipe of her tongue, more precise this time, and she hums against Rhea’s clit as Rhea’s other hand delves into her hair, pulling it out of its tie. Catherine’s hair falls to her shoulders, disheveled and wiry, and Rhea drapes a leg over her shoulder, hooking it around her back, her heel gliding over the smooth grey of Catherine’s chestplate, her breath growing ragged.

“That’s it,” She pants, and Catherine’s breath is thick and heavy against her skin, adding even more heat between her legs. Rhea tilts Catherine’s head up no more than an inch, just enough so their gazes meet again, and Catherine locks her lips around her clit and _sucks_.

Rhea trembles, whimpers this time, electric pleasure swimming through her body like a drug. She’s wetter now, both of her thighs quivering and squeezed tight around Catherine’s head, and with a groan Catherine raises her hand between Rhea’s legs and leisurely sinks one finger into her cunt. Rhea clenches around her greedily, impatiently, and she grinds her hips into Catherine’s face more desperately now, a flush painting her cheeks a bright, rosy shade of pink. Catherine can’t help but moan seeing Rhea like this, and the reality of it all sends another jab of liquid heat into her belly and it sinks between her legs, and she struggles to keep herself from squirming, her clit pulsing demandingly beneath layers of mail and armor, just aching to be touched and played with. Goddess, she wonders, _hopes_ that Rhea is feeling benevolent tonight to indulge in her. It’s seldom they do this, but Catherine never forgets any of it, reminisces over the feel of Rhea’s shivering skin beneath her touch for months until she memorizes the tempo of her moans like they’re hymns from a choir.

She truly is divine, Catherine thinks. There is no one else more deserving, more ardent, more ethereal than Rhea, and she’d follow her lady into the depths of hell if she willed it.

“Catherine,” Rhea pleads, her head tilting back, chest heaving. She’s practically fucking her face now, hips rolling so hard it almost hurts, and Catherine nods, adding another finger inside of her, and it sinks in seamlessly, eagerly.

She curls her fingers this time, angles them towards herself and presses hard, rhythmically, each thrust in sync with her lips and tongue against Rhea’s clit. Rhea’s legs are spread wide now and her moans echo through the chapel, filling it with gasps and pleas and cries of pleasure that rise up to the ceiling. Her aquamarine eyes glow bright, hair spilling messily down her shoulders and back in long, pale green waves, and she gasps out pieces of Catherine’s name as Catherine fucks her diligently, obediently, _expertly,_ so hard her wrist and tongue ache, her mouth and chin slick and dripping with arousal, and Rhea brings her hand to her mouth to cover her scream as she comes. It’s muffled and shrill and nothing short of delicious, her release trickling down Catherine’s jaw as she fucks her through it and feels her legs shaking around her head. Catherine removes her fingers and grips Rhea's hips hard with her both of her hands, her fingertips pressing into her skin, aiding each thrust into her face. She cleans Rhea up gently, traces over her lips and presses kisses to her oversensitive clit, prying out the remainder of her orgasm with quick, light licks. Rhea’s skin gleams in the fading light as Catherine smears slick onto her hip, and only when Rhea’s breathing becomes quiet and her body goes slack does she finally stop, both her face and hand soaked and tacky, Rhea’s release trickling down to her wrist.

Rhea gazes down at her finally, regaining her composure, and Catherine makes a point to clean off her fingers, licking them slowly and deliberately, proud at the wanton flush still stark on Rhea’s cheeks. Her very taste is holy, and Catherine savors every lick.

“That was wonderful, my love,” Rhea praises, her expression tender and gentle. Catherine’s heart beats fast in her chest as Rhea leans down and kisses her, deep and open-mouthed, and her lips tingle as she pulls away. “You made a bit of a mess, but you managed to keep my dress clean. Good girl."

Oh goddess, Catherine practically buckles from the ardor. Rhea extends her hand to her, helping her up, and Catherine wipes what’s left of Rhea’s release onto the back of her hand. Even at this hour, she couldn’t be too careful.

“Thank you, my lady,” Catherine takes her hand and bows her head.

“You prayed for an awfully long time tonight,” Rhea continues, her voice airy. “Why don’t I reward you for that?”

(Oh Seiros, Catherine decides to pray with Rhea more often after that.)


End file.
